He grew up in a small town on the prairies; the kind of town where you expect Andy Taylor to come around the corner at any second, sporting a few fishing poles and whistling a tune that calms heart and spirit alike. In fact, my man is very much like Andy; a calm, cool and collected half-full kind of guy.

I on the other hand am the nervous, Barney Fife type; in God I trust and everyone else pays cash. Having grown up in a fast growing suburb of a major city where change was constant and neighbours transient, cautiousness was instilled in me at any early age. If some old gent came around the corner with a fishing pole, I was taught to cross over to the other side.

One of my hubby's quaint traits is that he likes to whistle or hum while he putters; he finds any kind of work fulfilling and worth doing well. The soft sound of him humming in the basement warms my heart and I almost envy the peaceful manner in which he attacks his tasks.

I, having lost the ability to whistle after enduring the humiliation of adult orthodontics, only hum when I am fearful, like when Iím walking down a dark street or searching the house after a thump in the night.

And here we are . . . having met just before our golden years, learning how to adjust living together. What a pair.

He canít help but talk to everyone everywhere. If a person drives by him, his hand will slightly raise on the steering wheel in a familiar, farmer-like wave. Meanwhile, Iím like, ďUm, do you know him?Ē

ďNo, just being friendly,Ē is his cheerful reply. Living in my city means this farm-boy has hundreds of cars passing him by daily. I wonder if his wrist gets sore.

Kids playing ball in the park are shocked by his well-meaning banter. Grabbing him by the arm, I sadly warn him that today, in the city; any stranger being kind is considered a possible pedophile. His face drops and my heart breaks a little.

Life should not be so cold.

As the months go by, we are both teaching each other the benefits of the otherís point of view. I have learned how to speak to strangers and bring the gospel or at least a Christ filled smile to those we meet. Surprisingly most people are actually nice and not trying to steal my parking spot or abduct my dog. He has learned to give out coffee gift cards instead of cash to those who are needy and that itís maybe not safe nor advisable to jump out of the car on the major interstate freeway in order to pick up someoneís tossed trash.

My dear man has embraced my crazy Barney Fife moments without judgment and I have found his Andy Taylor kind gentle manners downright endearing. God is knitting our lives together, morphing us into a rather unique joint vessel to be used by Him.

We aintí just whistling Dixie; we are fully embracing this new life Godís given us to share!